


and your friends they sing along and they love you.

by lannisnow



Category: Sense8 (TV)
Genre: F/F, F/M, M/M, MENTIONED: Lito Rodriguez/Hernando (Sense8), MENTIONED: Nomi Marks/Amanita (Sense8), MENTIONED: Will Gorski/Lito Rodriguez/Nomi Marks, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-08
Updated: 2015-06-08
Packaged: 2018-04-03 13:25:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,878
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4102597
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lannisnow/pseuds/lannisnow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Basically just shameless smut. There's no plot to this. I love my 8 children.</p>
            </blockquote>





	and your friends they sing along and they love you.

**Author's Note:**

> funfact: i wrote this at 1am, found about 200 spelling mistakes, saw i used the phrase "he shook his head" way too many times, and realized i've been calling hernando "hernandez". nice.

Warm arousal crawls through his gut, up to his neck, flushing his skin as it creeps through his body. It's Nomi and Lito again, and Will tries hard as he might to push down the threat of jealousy that rears its head. He shifts on the couch, crosses his ankles where they're thrown up on the seat-cushions, adjusts his shoulders against the arm, balances his beer precariously on his chest, barely holding on.

He feels them but doesn't call them, tries hard not to think about them, about their mouths or their hands – about their lovers. A pang of guilt rushes through him. Will thumps his head against the arm of the couch when his cock stirs, shakes his head as though telling himself no will make it go away. There is a way to block it out, he's sure, he just doesn't know how, not yet. It's something he hopes he'll learn with time.

“Will,” Lito says into his ear. Will's mouth falls open and he lets out a heavy breath. He presses his palm against his cock and shakes his head. He wets his lips, glancing at Lito from the corner of his eyes.

There and not there, solid but invisible. Will lets out a heavy breath, runs his teeth over his lips.

“I don't want-- to join in,” he tries, fumbling. Lito looks down at him and Will flinches, reaches to put his beer on the coffee table, defensively crosses his legs over themselves.

“Doesn't seem that way,” Lito says, sitting back on his heels. Will avoids looking anywhere but at the beads of sweat dripping down his beer bottle. He doesn't want to join, he reminds himself. He's bonded to them. He knows them, and he loves them. He's come to terms with it. But he's not... He isn't comfortable with their lovers, not yet. He's never met eyes with Neets or Hernando. It worries him, worries him that he's taking something from them, even if Nomi insists over and over that Neets gives her overwhelming consent, that she loves them all because they're all a part of Nomi. Hernando, he thinks, probably still doesn't know.

Nomi is there, because he thought of her he's sure. She reaches up and drags her hands down his chest, kneeling against the floor as well. Will shakes his head.

“Will says he doesn't want to join in,” Lito says teasingly, cutting Will off just as he opens his mouth. Will watches Nomi carefully. She lifts her hands off of Will's chest immediately, places them down by her thighs. She raises an eyebrow, a confirmation, he's sure. Will nods.

“I should have asked,” she says, a small smile on her lips. “Sorry.” Will shakes his head, licks his lips to apologize, but then she's gone, and he tries to send it to her through the bond instead. Amusement creeps into his chest in return, and then the arousal. Lito sighs next to his ear and disappears in the next second.

Will takes a heavy breath and reaches for his beer again. It's cold and distracts him from the sweat that drips down his temples. He adjusts himself in his pants and shakes his head clear. The television murmurs in the background. He tries to concentrate on it instead, on whatever started playing when he'd turned it on an hour ago.

There's a weight over his hips and it startles him, at first. He figures he should be used to his sensates appearing over his body, after Capheus knocked him over on a walk from Starbucks the other morning, enthusiastic about everything he could see, talking to Will about his home and the streets there, about his van, all while reaching for Will's coffee.

This isn't Capheus, though – Will doubts Capheus would appear straddling his hips in the first place – it's Wolfgang.

He's flushed from his cheeks to his chest. A subtle red blush that matches Will's own, he knows, under his shirt. Wolfgang is naked and Will remembers what he'd overheard with Kala, that Germans were much more open about their nudity, but his cock is thick and red; it rests, full and heavy, against the space between Will's pants and where his shirt is rucked up, where his skin is visible and vulnerable. He can feel the heat and he moves unconsciously up, hips rolling up against Wolfgang.

“They said you weren't interested in sleeping with them,” Wolfgang says, accent thicker with his arousal. His hands settle on Will's chest and Will can't find it in himself to confirm. “It's their lovers, isn't it?”

Something squeezes in Will's chest. He puts his beer bottle on the table and his hands rest against Wolfgang's hips, settled carefully. It feels soft, barely-there. Wolfgang's projection is a weaker one than Riley's (and Will really, really does not want to think about Riley right now, knows she would hate him for bringing her into this situation). It's the weakest one Will has, he thinks. His fingers dig into Wolfgang's thighs and he catches himself gasping as Wolfgang rocks back.

Will nods as his answer, assumes it's a hypothetical question anyway, but Wolfgang's hands are heavy against his chest as he lifts his hips and drags his cock up against Will's belly. It catches the fabric of his shirt and lifts it up. Will's eyes roll back into his head involuntarily, until he's looking up at the ceiling and his senses grasp onto every feeling of Wolfgang in his presence.

“I don't have a lover,” Wolfgang says, and Will knows he could counter-argue that. Wolfgang has Kala, as hard as it is for them to admit. He feels their love every time they connect, his love for Kala is strong and deep and pure, and Kala's for Wolfgang's is tinged with jade and shame, but is wholly innocent and true. He wonders what it feels like to them, to Wolfgang, when he's with Riley, what that love feels like through their perspectives.

“So it's okay?” Will says, eyes darting back down to Wolfgang's face, “to have sex with you?” Wolfgang grins, and looks down at Will's chest. He feels emotions dig at him but he can't place which one of the lot is Wolfgang's, not when he's this sensitive to their feelings. To Sun, who sits, unaffected and numb in her cell. To Kala, who is exasperated that it's happening again. To Capheus, who is experimenting on his own with his sexuality after he's realized it's not a mistake. To Riley, who... She feels withdrawn.

He pulls himself back to now, to his own body, having projected without completely leaving, grasping at the emotions of his sensates without moving from his couch. A move he's slowly trying to work on, trying to come to terms with. Something that would keep them safe, always, as long as he can reach them when they need help.

“We don't know each other well,” Wolfgang says, dragging Will's attention back to now, to the thighs that straddle his hips, the hands that have pushed up his shirt to under his armpits, the cock that catches on the skin of his belly. Will takes a heavy breath through his lips and nods.

“-makes the connection stronger,” Will says, Wolfgang nodding as it leaves his mouth. “A physical bond--”

“Not,” Wolfgang interrupts, his lips quirking from what Will can see, “- an emotional one.”

Will weighs the idea in his head, and frowns. “Still an emotional one,” he says. Wolfgang looks up at him, his eyes blue and bright and his face warm with heat.

“Less emotional.”

They're still learning, Will thinks. Together.

Will's right hand leaves Wolfgang's hips and dips down into his sweatpants, pulls his cock out and shifts his hips as much as he can to get them down mid-thigh. He wasn't interested, he thinks to himself. Not initially. Not when he could have been aiding in cheating, or bending the rules. Now, though, this is pure, this is raw fucking at the core of its existence. This is Wolfgang, bent over top of him, Wolfgang, taking his body and switching positions with him, Will suddenly astride, and then back down again in the quickest shift, and he realizes his hand is wrapped around both of their cocks. Wolfgang smiles, and then his head is down between his shoulders as he ruts up into Will's hand.

It's lazy and slow and he feels Wolfgang drift out, slipping to be with, he assumes, Lito and Hernando. He comes back and groans, bringing the emotions of being wrapped up in his sensates with him, and Will misses the feeling, but not enough to move from right here, right in this spot. Not enough to project. Lito does show though, and leans up over Will to kiss Wolfgang, deep and thorough, and Will watches and tries not to feel shame creep up on him. Lito turns and smiles at him, and then he's gone, back to Hernando and Nomi, and possibly Danni, he's unsure, completely.

They all build up together, a slow-burn that increases its fire, until it consumes them all, there. Wolfgang flickers out, and back again twice, his eyes screwed shut as Will's blow open and dark. He can feel it when they come, a knot in the muscles of his shoulders as they all tense together and arch into their lovers or their hands.

He is both there and not. He is himself, and he is them, and this moment – surrounded by a lighting strike to his spine as he arches his hips into the air off his couch – this is holy.

They come down slow. He is smiling with Nomi, laughing with Lito. Wolfgang is soft, a sigh and closed eyes as a movie plays in the background. There is the smallest quirk to his lips, but it isn't a smile, not quite. Will finds himself worrying about it, for just a moment, worrying about Wolfgang as he worries for all his sensates. Wolfgang throws his hand in the air to dismiss him and Will hadn't realized he'd projected.

Will removes his shirt and cleans up, dips into the shower and finds clean clothes to wear. He feels love and a quiet burn again in his body and his mind, of the sensates with their partners, and the busy body of Wolfgang cleaning up as well.

Kala's frustration rushes through him and Will smiles, shakes his head, just as Sun appears in front of him, in her prison uniform with paint drying on the sleeves.

“Are you done, now?” she asks, her head tilting softly. Will looks up to her and smiles, fond of her facade. He's felt the emotions pour through her in the past, mostly rage, but in moments there is love and kindness. He nods. She nods back. “Good. Do any of you know how to paint?”

Will laughs, stands to grab himself another beer from the fridge, and shakes his head. “I don't know,” he says, and then Capheus answers in the bond, heavy in his excitement. Sun tilts her head, and then she is gone, and Will smiles. He pulls a long drink out of his bottle.

His cluster, he thinks, is a handful nothing could have prepared him for.


End file.
